Damon Prison World Pancakes Novels & Stories

“You’re about to burn that.” “It’s called golden brown, thank you very much,” Damian says, flipping a pancake with a confidence he absolutely hasn’t earned. It lands perfectly. He smirks. “Told you.” I raise an eyebrow. “Beginner’s luck.” “Or raw talent.” “Uh-huh.” He brings over a plate, three uneven pancakes stacked proudly and sets it in front of me. “For you, chef Damian’s first masterpiece.” I taste it. Sweet, buttery, a little too much vanilla, but still good. “Not bad.”

Brandon stood by the counter like a proud chef, spatula in one hand and a smug smirk on his face. “Morning, oh mystical one,” he teased, sliding a plate stacked with pancakes toward me. I gave him a look. “Call me that again and I’ll tell Mom you were the one who ate the last cookie she was saving for Dad.” His smirk faltered. “You wouldn’t.” I took the plate and grinned sweetly. “Try me.” Damian walked in, shirtless as usual, nursing a protein shake like it owed him money. “She’s awake. That’s good.”

“Turns out if you don’t, you starve.” They exchange a look, then back away obediently. I toss the ruined food, grab fresh ingredients, and start over. Simple. Controlled. Familiar. The sizzle of batter hitting the pan steadies my breathing. Behind me, Danika leans against the counter. “You okay?” I don’t look at her. “I will be.” She nods, accepting that for what it is. As the pancakes cook properly this time, I let myself breathe. Whatever last night was— whatever Dante and I crossed—

"Now please don't burn the pancakes." Sebastian burned the pancakes. The kitchenette smelled like smoke and desperation. The first batch was black on the outside, raw on the inside. The second batch was better—gray instead of black, slightly cooked through. The third batch was almost edible. Damian set the table—paper plates, plastic forks, the orange juice that was probably expired. Alex found a clean glass and filled it with water. Sebastian carried the plate of pancakes to the table, his good shoulder carrying most of the weight.

Before Cain could open his mouth and say another rubbish, Dante moved swiftly, grabbed the messy plate in his front and smashed it right in Cain's face! The plate wasn't the rubber type like other inmates' own. Since Dante wasn't an ordinary man, his food was served in a heavy ceramic dish to match his taste. So a foolish Cain didn't think about this when he was licking what doesn't belong to him. Now he got served right in the face. The moment we heard that breaking sound, "AHHHH!" Cain's scream followed, making my heart jump with joy! "Yes! This is what I've been waiting for. I knew he wouldn't disappoint," I celebrated in my head, watching Cain cover his face with his hands, while his two

Damian: "When was the last time we sat like this?" Ava: "Maybe never." Damian ran his fingers through her hair. "From now on, every day." --- *DAY 750: DAY 3 - THE SNOW DAY* It had been snowing since morning. Heavy, big flakes. Like a school-cancelled day. Plan: Stay home. *10:00 AM - COOKING* Ava made pancakes. Luna spilled syrup. Adam added chocolate chips. Noah ate everything. Damian cleaned. "Am I a CEO or a maid?"

Handing over her plate, they all look at me so proud. “Now do Damien, Miss Lola,” Gio says, daring me with a smirk. At least with him, I know his morning brew of choice. From last night I know he likes thin pancakes. His build tells me he needs protein too. “Damien wants empty crepes. But stuff them with scrambled eggs and bacon. Oh, and black coffee,” I say with confidence. Looking at Damien makes me blush. He grins while placing his plate down with even more pride. “Now do me,” Gio says, stroking his beard and eyeing me.

she said, her voice firm. “I heard that,” came a deep voice from the hall. I froze, heartbeat skipping. Damian appeared in the doorway, sleeves rolled up, hair damp like he’d just come from training. His gaze flicked toward me briefly before moving to Maren. “You’re making that thing again?” “Pancakes,” Maren said flatly.

He answered looking flustered. Well, that’s a first. I never ever thought that I would see the almighty Damian look flustered. “You didn’t really overdo it. Just a few mistakes that can be rectified.” I said as I walked towards him and threw away the pancake on the pan as it was already burnt. I picked up the bowl of mixed pancake and was surprised to see that it was empty. “I used it up.” Damian said, scratching his head nervously. He looked really cute. I had the urge to laugh but I held myself. I picked the flour and mixed it with the other pancake ingredients while Damian watched me carefully.

"I'm starting to." "So what happened to that cowardly wizard?" My mom asked, thankfully breaking through the awkward silence. "What was his name…Pant..y…panto…? The Panty Man!" "The Pantomath, Mom," Daxton said, chuckling over a cup of liquor. My mom giggled, cheeks flushing, "Oh yeah. That guy!" "Oh, my sister sent me a transmission the other day," Mads answered, with a grin. "He's rotting in a cell right now. Along with all of his goons. Maximum security. I'd sleep more comfortably if he was dead though."